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The allure of the kohl, powder, lip rouge, and silvery-hued eye-paint was too great for Tony to resist. She had just decided to put some on, then wash it off quickly, when she heard Savage’s deep voice. “Where the hell is the young devil?”
She swept an armful of the tiny pots into the cotton pants and tucked the bundle under her arm. She’d have to wait until she was in the privacy of her cabin aboard theFlying Dragon.Suddenly the great adventure she was about to embark upon hit her. Young men toured the Continent; young women did not. There were definite advantages to masquerading as a man.
Savage carried a small chest and John Bull followed with a valise. Tony was immediately suspicious. Savage was smuggling something and her curiosity was devouring her. Her glance stole again and again to the mysterious chest as he rowed back to the ship.
“Curiosity killed the cat,” Savage mocked as he watched Tony’s eyes.
She put up her chin, vexed that he could always read her thoughts so easily. Savage rowed close to theFlying Dragon,then stood up to gain a handhold. “Pass me the chest,” he ordered.
Tony bent to lift it, but found it impossible.
“You can’t lift it because it’s filled with my hard-earned gold to pay for your damned cargo.”
Tony’s mouth fell open as she watched him easily haul it to one shoulder before he climbed aboard. She watched him stride to the helm. “Anchors aweigh, Mr. Baines. Hoist the mains’l!” His deep voice seemed to go right inside of her as she took her own smuggled goods below-decks.
The bag that Mr. Burke had packed sat in her cabin, so she hid the cosmetics under Anthony’s clothes. She was extremely grateful to have this cabin to herself. She knew she would never have been able to endure the disgusting company of the rough, coarse seamen.
Tony didn’t much fancy going among them for the evening meal, but realized she wouldn’t be waited on hand and foot. In fact Savage had told her she’d have to work while aboard. In her bones she feared he’d set her some degrading task, damn his eyes.
When a knock came upon her cabin door she expected to find Savage, but was surprised to see McSwine with a tray.
“Capn’s orders. Yer to keep outa the way tonight, sor.”
“Thanks Paddy. It smells good.” He really resembled a ferret when he grinned.
“Cap’n have me cut in collops an’ toss’d overboard if I cooked lousy. I’ve sailed with him before.”
Tony pulled off her tiewig and boots and stretched out in the hammock, balancing the tray. There were a dozen delicious great prawns and some new potatoes boiled in their jackets and dripping with melted lemon butter. Scallions, watercress, and spinach leaves were tossed with herbed oil and vinegar. It was plain fare, but quite delicious. To look at McSwine you would have thought he’d produce pig swill.
As Tony enjoyed her supper she wondered how in the world she would be able to spend the entire night slung in a hammock. As it happened, she fell asleep before she had finished eating. Her dreams were anything but restful. She moved about the ship doing one tiring chore after another, while the sailors mocked her “Fancydrawers,” which were long lace pantaloons. She had to scrub the entire deck with a small nailbrush, then she had to empty all the chamber pots. She called Indian Savage every foul name she could curl her tongue about.
When morning arrived she staggered from the hammock dreading the menial tasks that lay in wait for her. She brushed her own dark hair back and tied it with a thong. She slipped on her boots and went up on deck.
She was amazed to find they were in a seaport. Savage was just returning to the ship. Her eyes widened as she saw he was dressed in very rough clothes and was unshaven.
“We can’t be in France.”
“Of course we are. This is a clipper ship. That’s Boulogne.” He nodded toward the town.
She braced herself, waiting for his orders, but they weren’t what she expected.
“Get yourself spruced up, we’ll be in Le Havre before noon. If you’re still determined to buy Paris fashions, the warehouses of Havre are stocked to the rafters with female geegaws. I suppose I’d better come along to help you select the underpinnings. You’ve no more notion of what females prefer beneath their skirts than what they prefer beneath the sheets.”
“You’d be surprised,” Tony said dryly, hating him for his sexual experience. “Where have you been?” Tony demanded.
“Who the hell wants to know?” Savage replied with an icy stare.
“Just curious,” Tony muttered.
“I’ve been reconnoitering. Actually France isn’t a healthy place to be these days. The thunder of the storm has begun to roll over the heads of the aristocracy with their extravagant vices. Havre should still be safe, but in Paris the nobility is actually beginning to fear for its life.”
“Surely their excesses can’t be any worse than those of the London ton?”
“The English are amateurs; careful, dreary, penny-pinching pikers when it comes to indulgence. The French are insatiate, decadent, and debauched with a surfeit of food, fashion, sex, and deviation. Their follies are so numerous, there are fortunes to be made by shrewd opportunists such as myself.”
“What about me?”
Savage shook his head. The scar on his mouth stood out, giving him that sinister, bestial look that made her shudder.
